The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1887-09-02
SELECT STORY.
HUw AMAsA SNOW GOT ON HIS FEET

stove, and his stove full of wood and
red hot. His office was about rod
from his house, and quite near the
high wooden gate leading into the viii
lage street. Over the door read, 'Pro-
thonotary and Attorney. .at-law." 1t
was a huge, faded sign in black letters;
one could not 60 by Amasa Shows
office and not know of the business Of
its occupant. The trouble with the
sign was that it was not alluring enough.
Squire Slayton, down the street, with
a very small sign and over a grocery
store, and without big white house,
and a family name and connection
Squire Slayton somehow got all the
business there was going on in East
Chesterville. Amasa Snow sat tilted
back in his wooden arm chair, pulling
his long chin beard, scratching the few
gray hairs in his sloping gray head,
and trying to conjure up some new
scheme by which he could beat Slay-
ton again, and defer the foreclosure
sale. He had deferred it FIVE times on
one excuse and another; but Slayton
had him this time; there was no help
for it. The old place would have to
be sold-the old place where his boy
hood had been passed until he went to
college, and where he had lived ever
since and seen his six girl, grow up
about him. His six m Itherless girls
He reached down and broke a splinter
off bit of pine wood by the stove,
and began to chew hard on it. What
would become of the girls &? Every
one a beauty in his eyes; every one
worthy of marrying the Governor of
the State. How could he tell them
that the sale of their old home could
be postponed no longer; that every de.
vice and trick, and every legal quibble,
had been tried and tried again ? He
dared not tell the girls. He looked
out of the window; it was raining. An
April shower, to be sure, with the pros
pect Of golden sunset later on, but
everything outside under the trees look
very muddy and dismal. Amasa Snow
felt very much decreased. Fate ap-
peared to be against him.
There were his law books-a couple
of hundred dingy calf volumes, no,
kept up to date, the Inheritance from
the judge, his father, but even the law
books were "chatteled, 'as they said,i. e.
mortgaged, quite beyond their value
Everything he had, in fact, was mort
gagged. He had come this wet April
day to the end of things. Next week
came the sale. He felt like saying
the deluge. He had not enough money
to take him and his family out West
That was his plan--to 60 West. HI
hardly felt his fifty years. He fell
young and energetic when he thought
of the West. By. the-by, there was
his brother, Elisha-his brother who
in his youth was so like him. He was
West--in California. He had moi
seen him for twenty years. The las
he had heard from him was a reques
to send on a hundred dollars. Tha
was five years ago. He had sent hin
fifty, and nothing had been heard from
Elisha since, except the name endorsed
across the back of the check, showing
that he had received the money.
No, it was clear that Elisha could
never help him. Elisha had caused
him TO loose several thousand dollarl
once in a mine. Elisha's name was al
WAYS a great bugbear in his family
since. No, Elisha could not be expected
to help him. Stay An idea. Amas'
Snow began to poke the red-hot fire
vigorously. 1t was a bleak raw day,
but the fire was hot enough in that lit
tie office if left alone. An idea
Elisha should be made to help him. Il
was last hope, but it fred him with
enthusiasm. He reached up into q
dusty book case and got down file O
letters. He was looking for Elisha
address.
Just then there came a tap at tht
Office door. Amasa turned round. "By
George !" he cried, nearly carried of
his feet with astonishment. "ItI
Elisha-im propia persona !"
81 have come home,' said Elisha
meekly. 81 have come home to neigh
Dor round"
"And just in the nick of time
Elisha. Mighty glad l am to see you !!
Then a thought occurred to him, as
he shook his brothers hand with thai
feeble wave in the air so common il
Southern Connecticut, he would no
tell Elisha of his financial condition
He might not help him if he did. No
he would keep his own counsel.
The two brothers sat down by thu
stove, and Amasa threw another sticl
of soft pine on the fire. 1t was fright
fully hot. "See here, Elisha he sale
after a pause. allows the grant
American Eagle a-doin :"
"She isn't a-doin."
"Nothin' at all 7"
"No; hasn't been for ten years"
sit was splendid mine once, Elisha
You used to say So"
$50 it was. But we struck hare
pan-you remember about it. What
the use of rakin' over old personalitie
at this time, when l ought to be re
ceived with open arms, and bontir
lighted, and fireworks touched off :?
81 know, l know" replied Amasa
apologetically. 81 ought to ask hov
you have happened on East this way.
"Why, yes; you ought to show som
brotheriy feeling. It's natural"
"Well, Elisha, have you got an,
ready money in your pocket =
"A thousand dollars
Amasa walked over to his old rust
safe. "Better put the money in here ?
he asked, casually. Elisha handed hin
a roll of bills. "Don't feel like payir
back any of that two thousand 7
asked Amasa, iacetiously, referring t.
the loan he had made him in the min
ing scheme.
SNo,' said Elisha, 81 don't" Afte
a pause, while his brother locked tn
safe, he said: THAT Thousand is tn
last cent I've got in the world"
"Glad you've come home, gla
you've come to live with me-" sal
Amasa, rubbing his hands. "The girl
will be so happy to see you. Come
let's go IN the house"
He slipped an old, well-worn ovei
coat over his shoulders without buttor
ing it, and they went in the rair
Ji;alo ,yao yorv Wall 1raaaad An